Seeing, Observing
by leavinghope
Summary: Sally Donovan has observational skills that allow her to see more than most. Perhaps even more than the only consulting detective in the world.


Sally Donovan observed as Sherlock Holmes and John Watson shook hands and went their separate ways. John walked towards a cab where a petite blond woman, his fiancee, Mary, was waiting for him. Sherlock smiled fondly at the pair until the cab drove off into the deep London night. Then he turned back to the crime scene, head down and hands shoved deep in his coat pockets. The old Sherlock would be yelling at the forensics team to not botch the cleanup of the scene. The old Sherlock would be pestering Lestrade to give him the next case. The old Sherlock would be admonished by John for being an insufferable prick to the Yarders.

The returned Sherlock surveyed the scene in silence and alone.

The contrast was too much for Sally. She moved to stand beside him. "You okay?"

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "Of course. Why shouldn't I be?"

Sally remembered the days when Sherlock and John would wander away immediately after solving a case. Sally had been baffled by what dragged them away so quickly, potentially botching paperwork and ruining the Yard's chances for convictions. A quick conversation with Greg had cleared that up for her. According to Lestrade, the two men would often go out to eat, John making sure Sherlock got some nutrition after days of non-stop work. Tonight Sherlock stood with this coat wrapped tight around him as if to fight off bitter cold. As Sally stood comfortably in her silk blouse and light jacket, she wondered when the last time was that Sherlock ate anything.

"Hey, some of us are hitting the pub when we're done here. Care to join us?"

Sherlock stiffened and looked away from Sally. "What brings this on?"

Sally remembered the two years without Sherlock. She experienced the occasional twinges of guilt, usually where John was concerned, about her role in Sherlock's apparent death. She always knew that she had done the right thing. Those clues had indeed been strange. Sally would have never noticed them, and she was confident in her abilities as a detective. In retrospect, Sherlock's vindication proved her correct. The clues had been planted so only Sherlock Holmes would perceive them, only he had not been the one who committed the crimes. Sally felt no need to apologize to Sherlock for any of her actions. But learning just how much Sherlock had been willing to risk for those he cared about made her feel obligated to treat him with more kindness than she had in the past.

"Just thought you might want some company."

Sherlock glanced over to where John's cab had been, and Sally witnessed the longing in his eyes. _Oh_, she thought. _Oh, no._

"You don't need to…"

"Maybe I want to."

Sherlock faced her again. "Sally, I want you to know I hold no ill will against you. You were doing your job, competently, as I've come to expect from you."

"Alright, now you are worrying me, Freak."

Sherlock smiled at the name. "Well, you were attempting to be polite to me for a change. I thought I'd respond in kind."

_He's changed. John has changed him, and he isn't even here to notice._

Suddenly Sally realized that she did have something she needed to say. "I _am_ sorry things escalated the way they did. I never expected to involve the folks higher up. I just wanted Lestrade to see the clues in front of him, not be blinded by his friendship with you."

"Friendship," said Sherlock gently. "Yes, I was depending on his friendship before I even knew I had it."

Startled by the sadness in his eyes, Sally was overwhelmed by the urge to make him laugh.

"Well, nobody is perfect."

Sherlock managed a chuckle at her weak joke, but Sally noticed his eyes flicking to where John had been.

From Sally's perspective, John had renewed his friendship with Sherlock demonstrating more grace and forgiveness than she could have managed. At the few crime scenes they had shared since Sherlock's reappearance, the two men continued their partnership as if the years they'd been apart had never happened. But as Sally recalled seeing them together, she realized John touched Sherlock more than he used to, as if to reassure himself that Sherlock was really there. And Sherlock was more focused on John. He made sure of John's location and treated the doctor's insights with more delicacy than before. Sally looked at the silent man beside her, receding into the background when he used to dominate every setting with his presence.

_The work used to catch him on fire, but now he fades without John_.

"I understand, you know."

Confusion flickered over Sherlock's face, and Sally nodded her head towards the kerbside. "Wanting something you can't have."

Sherlock continued to stare at Sally, as Lestrade approached. He cast a suspicious glare at the two of them. "Do I need to break something up here?"

Sally said, "No, I was just trying to persuade Sherlock to join us at the pub."

"Really?" Greg raised his eyebrow at Sherlock, hope in his voice.

Sherlock looked at the officers. The lights from the departing ambulance highlighted his obvious indecision. _He appears fragile, breakable_. Then Sherlock took a deep breath. He waved a hand in the opposite direction of John's departure. "The Carpenter's Arms?"

Feeling triumphant, Sally grinned. "Sounds good to me."

Sherlock nodded. "I'll grab a table while you finish up here."

As Sherlock strode away, Sally turned to Greg. "I can't believe he agreed."

Greg started typing on his phone and responded, "I'm surprised myself."

The last of the police cars drove away, leaving Sally and Lestrade alone.

"Are we done here, boss?"

"Yeah, just give me a minute." He looked up at Sally. "I'm texting John."

Sally cycled through the names of all of the officers on the current case, and she couldn't think of a single John. That could only mean one man. "John Watson?"

"Have to tell him we'll make sure Sherlock eats."

Sally thought back to observing John approach the cab where his fiancee was waiting. She was struck by how John was diminished without Sherlock. John somehow seemed shorter when walking away, his hair grayer, a slight limp to his gait. And Sherlock letting him go, encouraging John to continue the new life he had forged for himself in Sherlock's absence.

_Both of them see_, she thought, _but they do not observe._

Sally stood quietly for a few moments, watching Sherlock disappear around a corner as Greg continued his exchange with John. She tilted her head to indicate Greg's phone. "Him, too?"

Greg met Sally's gaze as he clicked _send_. With a rueful smile, he said, "Him, too."


End file.
